


Hey Jealous Lover Ch.14 of 16

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Jealous Brian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always been lured by the thrill of the game, pushing myself to win. But I finally realized that each time I won, I also lost.<br/>Takes place after Ep.208 and before Ep.217</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jealous Lover Ch.14 of 16

**Taking control of a situation doesn’t mean having an advantage over your enemy.**  
  
Brian stormed into the loft when he should have danced, frowned when he should have smiled. The morning meeting had gone off without a hitch, this latest jewel in King Kinney’s crown reinforcing the whispered conversations in the hallway and around the water cooler. _There was no one better._ Those present were unaware he’d given the presentation by rote. Yet, he was still a fucking success. The only person who would have had a clue was Cynthia, who prided herself on being well versed in all things Kinney. But the accolades and pats on the back afterwards didn’t matter. For one reason. If he were to use the past as a yardstick to judge the present, there would be an email waiting for him at home. Big bucks? Definitely. Worth it? Absolutely.  
  
Nerves stretched taut, he snapped, crackled, and popped throughout the day. At three o’clock, he announced, “I’m leaving. Unless there’s a fucking apocalypse, don’t call me.” He reinforced his statement with a dangerous glare. “For anything!”  
  
Cynthia stared at him open-mouthed. When did he ever leave early? Before she could trail after him, notebook in hand, he was gone. Shaking her head in bewilderment, she turned her attention to the revisions for the latest ad campaign. A grin played at the corners of her mouth. At least she’d be able to keep her dinner date with Josh, thanks to the latest crisis in Kinneydom.  
  
                                                                                                           * * * *  
  
With a brief shout out to make sure Justin hadn't decided to get it into his cock-loving head to come home early and “surprise” him—which under normal circumstances, would have had his dick twitching—Brian slammed the door and headed toward the kitchen. He placed the bags of Thai food on the table, then brought the computer to life with a flick. The whirring motor enveloped the loft with an enticing hum, but he tapped down the urge to immediately check his messages and marched to the bedroom instead. He tossed  his suit jacket on the duvet, undid his tie with a yank, and impatiently shed the rest of his clothing for a hurried shower. There was a limit, after all, to his self-imposed restraint.  
  
                                                                

Rivulets of water cascaded down his body as he slapped shampoo on his hair and scrubbed his scalp with energetic strokes. He rinsed his hair squeaky clean, the sudsy residue swirling down the drain, then lathered up with triple-milled French soap. He permitted himself a fleeting moment to luxuriate in the soothing spray of warm water and felt his overwound muscles gradually relax. But unease gripped him again and for one of the few times in his life, he didn’t have the urge to jack off.  
  
                                                                                     

He tied a plush towel around his waist and padded to the bar, oblivious to the droplet trail on the polished floor. After washing down an overdue Motrin with a healthy swallow of Beam, he returned to the bedroom and discarded the towel in favor of jeans and a wife beater.  
  
                                                                                    

Argumentative points and counterpoints rebounded in his brain like a mental tennis match. Should or shouldn’t? Sure or not sure? Right or wrong? Yes or no? How far was he prepared to go? Was the risk worth the reward?  
  
“You’re going to be the death of me yet, Justin,” he murmured to empty space and emptied his glass with a grimace.

Losing wasn’t in his vocabulary. He didn’t like getting beaten, professionally or personally. He had enough expertise with the former to be confident in his ability to win. The latter was a different story. He had never allowed himself to care enough for it to matter. No gain, no pain, right? Precisely why he avoided attachments.  
  
_“I haven't got time for the pain._ _I haven't got room for the pain._ _I haven't the need for the pain.”  ©C.Simon_  
  
What the fuck was he worried about? Justin wasn’t going anywhere. And if he did? Well, he would deal with it like every other unpleasant situation in his life. He’d move on. _Right. Keep telling yourself that,_ _Kinney._ Naturally, he’d miss him. He was fun to be around, always challenging him and calling him out on his shit. And the sex? Their sex was extraordinary, _beyond_ extraordinary. Never predictable. Certainly never boring. If anything, the excitement and hunger continued to escalate. _That_ worried him. That wasn’t supposed to happen. His thoughts skittered like a phonograph needle on a broken record until it stuck on one memory:

  
               All he had wanted was to be left alone, to drown his sorrows in peace. But Justin wouldn’t even give him that. He had to wake up in the middle of the night and join him. To do what exactly? To convince him that he should be given Father of the Year award? To assure him that he knew how much he loved Gus? He didn’t need to hear the former bullshit and didn’t need to be told the latter truth.                                

               Uninvited as usual, Mr.Taylor crashed the pity party for one. With a sheet scarcely covering his body, he plopped down next to him on the sofa and flung an arm around his shoulder.             

               His Kinney sarcasm was in full force. “Please don’t spout some patronizing, gag-worthy bullshit. It would be insulting.”            

               “I’ll try my best.”            

               “I don’t need you to watch me wallow in self-pity.” After a long swig from the almost empty bottle, he gave a melodramatic sigh.            

               “Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of entertaining.”        

               “Go to bed. Don’t say something stupid you’ll regret in the morning.”            

                “Yeah, ok. Good point,” Justin kissed his cheek, threw a leg over his thigh, and traced the outline of his mouth with a soothing finger.

                “What the fuck are you doing?”            

                 “I’m killing you with kindness.” _Kiss._ “You should try it some time.” _Kiss._ “It’s proven to be a highly effective technique for achieving one’s goals.” The flutter of kisses continued with his neck the next target.             

                 He could almost hear Justin reluctantly admit defeat— _I can’t help him face his demons if he won’t let me—_ as he wrapped the sheet tighter and rose from the sofa.  
  
                 Strangely bereft at the loss, he raised his head and saw a depth of compassion that stole his breath. For very different reasons. Amid jumbled emotions, anger and affection stood out, taxing his brain to reconcile their contradictory messages at Justin’s concern. Adding fuel to the emotional fire, his blond co-habitant had the audacity to reach out and gently stroke his hair before starting toward the bedroom.  
  
                  Halfway there, he spun around. “ Brian, what's the nicest thing anyone ever said about you or to you?”             

                  In no condition to engage in ten rounds of psycho babble, he wondered if it was a trick question, one he would never be able to answer without giving a piece of himself away. He searched the pale face. Suspicious and  distrustful by an upbringing that had left an indelible mark, he had spent years fine-tuning his innate ability to read people, elevating his level of expertise to within a hair’s breadth of accuracy. That skill made Justin even more troubling because there was no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive. There was only crystalline blue honesty. Perhaps that would change in the future, but for now....  
  
                  His mind raced. _Fuck! I don't know. I can't come up with anything. I need time._ He was still deliberating when Justin brushed his lips with a feathery kiss and held him captive with a gaze that seemed to possess the secrets of the ages. Transfixed, he couldn’t turn away. It penetrated every crevice of his body and  soul. Justin was the key and he was the lock. He was at his mercy. Always had been.            

                  _“Open your heart to me. I hold the lock and you hold the key. Open your heart to me. I’ll give you love if you turn the key.” ©Madonna,Cole,Rafelson_  
  
                  “Think about it, Brian. It might be worth giving it some thought,” he whispered, breaking the spell with a matter-of-fact statement that he was going back to bed. 

                                                   
                                                                                                   * * * *  
  
After a few embattled minutes staring into space, he replenished his drink with a suffering sigh and sank into his chair. He gave a cursory glance at the door, just in case, and opened the tersely worded message with a click: **Your client has been evaluated. Please read the attachment and advise how to proceed.**  
  
                                                                   

Nothing else. No indication where it was from or who sent the anonymous email. Phantom hops across networks masked that information, preventing any successful triangulation of the point of origin and making it untraceable. He expected nothing less. He settled back and started to read.

                                                                                                * * * *                                                                                                
**Time has its own particular rhythm, composed of seconds and minutes instead of beats and measures. Depending on how you play, it can range from adagio to presto.**  
  
Perusing the pages of information until his eyes ached, he rubbed the back of his neck and checked the clock. Startled that it was after five, he didn’t have a lot of time until Justin ambled in, assuming he didn’t decide at the last moment to stay at school and “work on his project.”  
  
                                                                           
  
He turned the computer off and raked a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to make sense out of his fucked up life. The hell with it. He’d deal with everything tomorrow, decide what to do tomorrow, and hopefully the universe would right itself again. He had to concentrate on the present. And concentrate he did. With a purposeful stride, he went to the kitchen, gathered plates and silverware, and set the table for dinner. He couldn’t help but grin at what Justin’s reaction would be to the unexpected tableau.

A devilish plan taking shape, he made a spontaneous decision to dress early for Babylon and throw the entire evening into a state of flux, totally Instead of their pre-dinner fuck and pre-Babylon fuck, there would be _no_ fuck. That is, if he could keep his hands off Justin which admittedly, which admittedly was easier said than done. How does a magnet repel its force? But he needed to see the want on Justin’s face, to feel the hunger in his body for him. Only for him. His growing bulge dared him to make good on the pledge.  
  
He scanned the contents of his massive closet, shoving hangers back and forth until he found what he wanted. His critical eye appraised the result in the mirror. The custom, white Armani shirt had been designed to showcase his upper body and emphasize the contours of his muscles. The fabric didn’t cling, it molded. There was something about sand-washed silk that ignited his nerve endings and worked on his psyche like an aphrodisiac. Not that he needed one, of course. His eyes traveled downward. The crotch-biting Dolce and Gabbana moneyed jeans left nothing to the imagination. At the sight of his cock stretched out along his upper leg, the smugness that threatened to escape earlier had become a full-blown smirk. This was going to be a very interesting evening.  
                                   
                                                                                                  * * * *

Breathless with anticipation, Justin took the stairs two at a time. He had been unable to concentrate all day and Adam noticed. The lack of attention grated on his nerves, prompting him to ask questions—vaguely at first, pointedly at last. Repeated head shakes and the inability or unwillingness to respond only increased his irritation.    
  
But Justin couldn’t answer. The morning’s aborted make-out session had short-circuited the path to his higher reasoning and transferred power to his penis-brain, leaving him with an itch only one man could scratch. Because of a kiss. And what a kiss! On a scale of one to ten, it was an twenty. The need, the want was too much. He had no idea a tongue could reach that far in someone's mouth, and when Brian tried to drag him over the vette’s console, he was sure he’d fuck him right there. But he didn’t. And now he needed to be fucked. Badly. A nervous snicker bubbled in his throat. Brian would be just as horny, probably lying naked on the bed, stroking himself, waiting. His dick strained against his jeans at the mental picture.  
  
He tugged the metal door open and banged it shut. “Brian?”  
  
Greeted by an odd silence, he paused with a puzzled expression on his face. His eyes darted around the loft and spotted the perfectly set table. Overwhelmed with a deja vu of jambalaya and shrimp, hurt and disappointment, he chided himself. _Stop it, Justin!_ _This isn’t then!_ He took a hesitant step.“Brian?”  
  
“I heard you the first time.”  
  
Flooded with relief at the familiar voice, he exhaled a nervous whoosh of air. “God! I didn’t—” The words caught in his throat as he drank in the man with a surge of fiery lust.  
  
“Cat got your tongue?” A brow arched with amused satisfaction.  
  
“I—Fuck! You look amazing!” he blurted out, tripping over his words like a lovesick teenager.

“Well, golly, gee whiz! Like, thanks, dude!”  
  
“Fuck off!”  
  
“I’d rather fuck you.” Envisioning a naked blond begging for his cock, Brian had serious doubts about the success of his plan.  
  
“We finally agree on something! But....” As enamored as he was with this fashionably dressed, ‘fuck everyone Brian,’ he would have preferred the gloriously naked, ‘fuck _me_ Brian.’  
  
“Impatient?” The teasing lilt belied the suggestive fire in the hazel eyes.  
  
Consumed with edgy arousal, Justin snapped, “Aren’t you?”  
  
After a measured sip of Beam, Brian sauntered into this personal space with deliberate casualness. But his sleek and sinful body rippled like a panther on the prowl. His words tickled his ear. “What do you think?”  
  
Justin shivered at the sexual timbre. “I, Christ! What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
His tone seductive and persuasive, Brian ordered, “Go take a shower and get dressed. We’ll have dinner and go to Babylon.”  
  
“Then what?” Justin decided this game was getting very old, very fast. His throbbing cock agreed.  
  
A knowing smile tugged at Brian's mouth, and his shrewd glint sent a scalding wave of electricity through him. “We'll find something to do.”  
  
Although Justin stood his ground against a look that would have reduced any gay man to a blubbering beggar, he could barely form a coherent sentence. “Just make sure you remember, Mr. Kinney, because _I_ sure as hell will!” He whirled around, cursing under his breath, and stomped to the bathroom for a cold shower.  
  
Brian followed his retreating form with narrowed eyes. _Don't worry, Sunshine. I'll remember. And not only will I make sure you remember, too, I'll make sure you never forget._

 

continue to the end here:  <http://archiveofourown.org/works/1758673>


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